


Nobody said it was easy (no one ever said it would be this hard)

by Mierke



Category: Bonding (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kinda, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/pseuds/Mierke
Summary: When Tiffany accidentally figures out Doug is one of her possible matches, she runs.Soulmate AU, except instead of one possible partner, the universe tells you who is compatible.





	Nobody said it was easy (no one ever said it would be this hard)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Away" from the [100 Fandoms Challenge](https://100fandoms.dreamwidth.org/).

Tiff’s running, her breath coming in pants and her lungs starting to ache. She's grateful for the lack of high heels, even though it throws off her balance, makes her a little unsure of her footing. She isn’t sure where she’s going, if there’s even a there to go to, but she needs to get away. Away from her life. Away from herself. Away from all those people looking at her as if she's more than just a hard shell. Most of all, away from _him._

When she comes upon a bus station, the decision is easily made. She buys the first ticket out, doesn't even wait to hear where it's going, and gets on the bus. She finds a seat and leans against the window, the glass cool against her burning skin. New York City starts passing her by, and the relief sets in when the familiar buildings and streets make place for things she's never seen before. She glances at her fingernails, the sparkle unmistakable even in the low light. Experience has taught her that if she just gets far enough away, if she stays away, it'll eventually fade back to a dull sheen that could be mistaken for her never finding a match at all.

When she's woken a few hours later, she's disoriented and groggy but gets off the bus easily enough. The town she's in almost feels deserted it's so quiet, and Tiff sets off to find a local hangout. She's not even sure she likes sex - not sure she enjoys it, even if she likes what it can bring her - but she's not willing to go traipsing all over town to find a hotel and it's easier to find a boy to take her home. She grabs a pair of stylish gloves out of her purse, hiding the evidence from view. She has learned that people get weird when they know she's matched, that men suddenly start respecting other men's boundaries even if they'd never respect her own. She can't be seen as someone's property right now, not when she needs to meet a nice guy who won't kick her out after she gets him off.

She spots her target a minute in and has him seduced in less than 10 minutes. He's kind, and nice to look at, and a little shy, so he's perfect for what she needs right now. The sex isn't anything you would call ground-breaking, though she acts as if it is, and afterwards, when he's fallen asleep and she's browsed his room for any signs that this guy is creepier than she expected, she lets herself rest. Gloves still on, even though the rest of her is naked, and she's grateful that society at least lets her keep that bit of privacy.

Sleep won't come, and her mind returns to Doug and how stupid she'd been. She always wears gloves, _always,_ but she wanted to beat him so bad and they were getting in the way of her finest motor skills and he kept winning. So in a fit of competitiveness, she took them off, and she was so high on victory that she actually gave him a high five. Palm contact. How could she have been so stupid? Ugh, the look on Doug's face when sparks came flying out; he seemed so happy, so excited. Could he not tell that it didn't matter that some higher power had deemed them a match, she wasn't good for anyone? She didn't stay behind long enough for him to make up his mind, or even to say anything. When the tingling had started in her fingers, when she had realised what was going on, she fled.

To here.

She still doesn't know where here is, and for a moment she is tempted to wake up her bed partner (Alex? Zane? Pete?) just to find out, but she doesn't. Instead, she focusses on his breathing, on the soft feel of the mattress against her back, grounding herself in the here and now. Eventually, she drifts off to sleep.

Sunbeams wake her, and she fights against opening her eyes, not ready to face the day just yet. She doesn't want to start over, was happy with the life she'd made in New York. _So stupid, so stupid_. The refrain echoes in her head like a song you can't get rid of, and she groans into her pillow. She can't think when she's too busy being angry at herself, but she's too busy being angry to forgive herself for what she's done. She put everything in jeopardy for... what? For a chance to win? A traitorous thought in the back of her mind pipes up and says it wasn't about winning, it was about that look on his face. The traitor reminds her that for a split second, when sparks started flying and she could see the joy spreading over Doug's features, she was happy too.

Her heart seems to have pushed her into this, and now she needs to find a way out again.

"Have you ever found a match?" she asks, suddenly curious, as Zayn - she's pretty sure that was it, now - turns towards her, his eyes open and honest.

"I have, yes," he says, the morning scratch heavy in his voice.

When he doesn't elaborate, Tiff asks, "What happened?"

He blinks at her and she isn't sure he'll answer. Maybe that's for the best, because other people's stories can only confuse her own.

"She left," he eventually says, looking out the window as if the story is written in the clouds. "We were still young, I suppose. Only eighteen years old, and she wanted to leave Woodstock, didn't want to be burdened down by someone who loved the village so much he'd never leave. We might have been compatible, but I don't think we'd have been happy."

"Well, that's easy to say now," he amends after a beat. "She broke my heart. I couldn't stop crying for weeks. I kept staring at my nails, at the sparkle that was slowly fading, as if every day took her a little more away from me."

Suddenly Tiff has a vision of Doug looking at his nails, trying to scrub it off, eventually going for gloves so he won't have to walk around with the reminder of her cowardice, of her running out on him the moment it got real. She tries to shrug it off, but it stays with her as she says farewell to her bed partner, as he insists on giving her breakfast and she reluctantly agrees, as she eventually does leave and starts walking through town.

She isn't sure where to go next, and she stops by the tourist centre. She needs someplace quiet to clear her head, and they direct her to Opus 40. Not feeling up to walking all the way there, she grabs a taxi; public transportation doesn't seem to visit the park. As she arrives and gets out, she knows this was the place to go; the combination of nature and man-made art overwhelms her senses, and she can bathe in the awe she's feeling. This will take her out of her head, and slowly she walks the paths through and over the sculpture.

She sits down near a spring and lets her feet dangle in the water. There's nobody around this early, and she breathes in the peace and quiet. Her fingers are still a little tingly and she shakes them, trying to get rid of the unwanted sensation.

What is it she's so afraid of?

The thought comes sudden and unbidden, and she groans against the tenacity of her own mind. She's afraid of what happened to Zayn, of being compatible but unhappy, of dragging Doug down in her world of harsh truths and realities. Doug still seems to believe in people - hell, he believed in _her_ \- and she doesn't want to be the one to take that away from him. She can't be who he needs, she can't be the dress-wearing, easy loving girl that she pretended to be yesterday. For a night, sure. But for life?

It's not only easier to get away but better, for the both of them. He'll get over it, eventually, and she'll build a life someplace else. Boston, maybe, or Philadelphia. New York isn't the only city in the world with a psychiatry program and a dominatrix scene; she could live her life anywhere.

She'd have to leave Pete behind, though.

Tiff groans and lies down, looking up at the puffy clouds overhead, enjoying the coolness of the water against the skin of her feet. They're still hurting some from yesterday's bout of running, but she probably deserves that.

"Tiff?" A voice disrupts her peace, and she looks up the path, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. The voice was vaguely familiar, and as she watches the guy come closer, her heart stops for a beat. This can't be really happening.

"Did you follow me?" she demands, suddenly sitting upright, tugging her feet back in. The water soaks through her dress, but that doesn't matter right now.

"How would I do that?" Doug asks, amused, and Tiff shrugs. People can do the craziest and scariest things, she's found. She's not naive enough to think that Doug, just because he seems like a nice person, couldn't be a creep. Surely even matches sometimes turn out to be absolutely awful people.

"You hid in my favourite place to think," he says as he sits down next to her.

"What?" she snaps, trying to surreptitiously move a little further away from him. Her heart is aching to get closer to him, to erase the physical and emotional distance between them, but her heart is the thing that got her into this mess, so there's no way she'll start listening to it now.

"I grew up in Marbletown, not far from here. We would visit Opus 40 a lot when I was a child, and when I grew older, I would come here on my own, to think about what I wanted from life. Or to impress a girl." He laughs, and motions to the park around them. "There are worse places for a date, don't you think?"

_This is not a date_ , Tiff wants to snap, but what comes out is: "Why are you being nice to me?"

He looks at her for a bit, his gaze steady as if he wants to look right into her soul. Tiff squirms but refuses to back down, keeping his gaze for as long as he wants it, while trying to lock her heart away.

"I didn't expect this to be easy," he says. "So I'm not walking away now it's hard."

Tiff isn't sure how to respond to that, so she looks back out over the water. She wants to tell him she's not worth the effort. She wants to warn him she'll only break his heart. But she also desperately wants him to keep looking at her like that, like she's an actual human being, like she has worth beyond her body. Surely this can only lead to heartache, but maybe the eventual pain would be worth the joy of being with him for just a while.

It's not like running away didn't hurt.

So she leans a little bit closer to him, threads her fingers through his, and doesn't say a word. He squeezes her hand but doesn't break the silence either, and she's grateful. She's not sure she can do this, she's not sure how people ever do this. But maybe she can try, just this once.

She didn't want to leave New York anyway.


End file.
